The Young Lion
by theshadowking03
Summary: After sitting on the Iron Throne, waiting to die. Something changes inside Tommen. His mother's words take root in the back of his mind and he vows to never feel that powerless again. As the Game of Thrones rages on, a new player takes their place on the board. The Young Lion of House Lannister.
1. Chapter 1: A Lion is Born

"_You are a lion. One day all the beasts will bow to you. You will be king. You will be strong and fierce like your father."_

Tommen never forgot his mother's words. Even after the siege on King's Landing was lifted and his grandfather returned to the city. Her words dug into his mind like a worm in the dirt. At first, he tried to ignore them. With his grandfather here now, things could go back to normal. Joffrey could go back to ruling the country. Their mother would go back to doting on him, and he could go back to the things he enjoyed. Reading, dancing, singing, anything that could take his mind away from all the cruelty of the world.

But nothing brought him comfort as it did before. The stories he once spent so much time reading brought no smiles, the songs he sang brought no joy, nor did dancing make him feel the way it once did. Something changed in him that night when he was sitting on the throne with his mother. The story she told, the chaos outside, the strange vial she held in her hand, the fear he felt, all of them together had caused something to snap inside his mind. He didn't want to be afraid again. He wanted to be able to do something other than sit and wait for someone to save him. He was the son of Robert and Cersei Baratheon. Grandson of Tywin Lannister. The blood of the two most powerful families in the kingdoms flowed through his veins. It was time he made himself useful with it.

He started where his strengths were. Books. Fantasies of giants and forest children were traded for histories of his combined family and those that lorded over the kingdoms. After the events of the Blackwater, the first family on that list was the Tyrells. With them arriving with his grandfather, that must've meant an alliance was formed after the death of his uncle Renly. With a more specific target in mind, Tommen tore through every book about the rulers of the Reach he could get his hands on.

As the days passed and peace finally returned to the city, frustration began to gnaw at him. The books he'd been able to acquire helped with giving an overview of the family. But told him nothing of what they were really like. The latest name given to him in the current book was a man named Mace Tyrell. A name that Tommen remembered from the stories his father would tell. He led a Tyrell army against Storm's End against his uncle Stannis. Did that mean he had led the army that came with his grandfather to save King's Landing? Did he have children of his own by now who had done it? If so, who were they? He needed names and he needed faces but how could he get them? When he realized the answer, he felt like slapping himself.

His grandfather. Tywin must know who lead the Tyrell army since they came with him. And more importantly he'd know why they joined their family now and not before. He could help him, if he wanted too. Tommen's excitement turned to anxiety. He had hardly ever spoken to his grandfather, and the times he had overheard him talk, he always sounded angry or annoyed. Would he help him with this? Or would he be like his mother and just ignore him and look after Joffrey? He needed to find out for sure, and that ultimately meant asking him.

For the first time in a week, Tommen left his room.

"Grow tired of being cooped up, my lord?"

"Very much so." Tommen said. He put one of the Tyrell history books he had been reading under his arm and turned to face his knight. His mother had told him Balon had fought valiantly during Stannis' seige and insisted he guard him in the aftermath of the attack. Up until now, he and Balon had hardly said a word to each other. That needed to change.

"Ser Balon, were you there when the Tyrells came to lift the seige?" Tommen asked.

Balon nodded. "I was, your grace."

"Do you know which Tyrell was leading them?"

The question came as a surprise to the knight but he answered swiftly. "Loras led the Tyrell warriors."

"Loras?" Tommen asked.

"The Knight of the Flowers. He was at the Tourney back when Eddard Stark was named Hand."

Tommen thought back to that event and the image of a knight in pristine armor riding against Gregor Clegane came to mind. "The one the Hound saved from the Mountain?"

"Yes, my lord." A low grumble came from Balon as he answered. "The one the traitor saved."

Tommen nodded and started through the Red Keep. The castle was as busy as ever. Some days ago, Joffrey had held some big announcement among his court and still the various lords and ladies fluttered about like butterflies in a meadow with smiles on their faces. He paused when his mother caught sight of him.

"Tommen, my sweet," Cersei said, embracing him. "Are you feeling better."

"I'm fine, mother," Tommen replied, returning the embrace. "Just reading. Is grandfather here?"

"He's just been named Hand of the King," Cersei said. "He'll be very busy."

"Will he have time to speak to me?" Tommen asked.

"Why do you need to speak to grandfather?"His brother's voice never failed to send a light chill up his spine. Tommen tilted his head to see the King moving away from a beautiful woman and over to them.

"I was...hoping I could speak with him about...things." Tommen said, trying to avoid his brother's gaze.

Joffrey chuckled at the hesitance in Tommen's voice. "Grandfather will have far more important things to do than play with you."

"I don't want too..." Tommen's voice stayed in his throat as his brother stared at him. Something about the green of his brother's eyes on him always made him nervous, like he was thinking of a way to harm him.

"...be a burden." Tommen forced out. "If he's busy, I'll find something else to do."

Joffrey gave a crooked smile to his brother before patting his shoulder. "Run along, little brother. Mother and I have much to discuss."

Cersei smiled at Tommen but followed Joffrey away from him. Tommen didn't try to hide the relief he felt at his brother's leaving. He loved his brother, but he wasn't sure Joffrey loved him back. Or if love was something he could even feel. The incident with the knight turned fool on his name-day and the execution of Ned Stark came to mind. The smile his brother made at their suffering didn't seem like the smile a loving person would make.

Turning back to his current problem, Tommen began to think of where his grandfather might be when another voice called out to him.

"I beg your pardon, are you Tommen?"It was the same woman he had seen his brother move away from, and she was indeed beautiful. Her dress was light blue and her hair was the nicest color of brown he'd ever seen. He had never seen her before but her voice sounded strangely comforting, as did the smile she offered.

"Yes," Tommen replied. "Who are you?"

"I'm Margaery." She said, giving a curtsy. "It appears we'll be brother and sister soon."

"We will?" Tommen asked.

Margaery nodded. "His grace and I are to be married."

Tommen blinked in surprise. "I thought he and Sansa Stark were-"

"His grace changed his mind," Margaery said quickly, turning her interest to the book he carried. "Is that a history on the Tyrells?"

Tommen shuffled his feet like he had been caught. "I was told that they were our new allies. I wanted to learn about them."

"Well aren't you the studious, young man." Margaery chuckled. "It just so happens that I know a great deal about the Tyrells."

A smile appeared on Tommen's face. "You do?"

"Of course. If one doesn't know one's own family, what do they know?"Margaery asked.

The two of them spent the next hour walking the Red Keep and out through the gardens. Any question Tommen raised, Margaery took her time to answer. Some even earned a chuckle from the woman, which Tommen quickly learned he liked hearing.

"So, your grandmother is the real head of your family?" Tommen asked.

Margaery nodded. "Indeed. My father is a kind and jovial man but even he isn't above words from my grandmother."

Tommen thought back to the names that came before Mace in the Tyrell family tree. Luther and... "Lady Olenna, correct?" Tommen asked.

"That's right," Margaery said, she gestured to the book he carried. "What did you learn about her?"

Tommen again went over the information he knew about her. "She was a member of the Redwyne family before marrying Luther. She had a strange title given to her but I haven't been able to find out what it means."

Another chuckle came from Margaery. "Queen of Thorns isn't meant as a title, my lord. It's a nickname. Due to her way with words."

Tommen's brow furrowed in confusion. "Words can be...thorny?"

"Oh yes," Margaery replied, leading him and Ser Balon over to an empty bench. "Words can be every bit as sharp as a blade if their wielder is skilled enough." When Tommen sat down beside her, she decided it was time to ask him a question. "If I may, why are you so interested in my family?"

Tommen blinked. "Am I not expected to learn about my family's new allies?"

"No, of course not," Margaery replied. "I only meant, you seem a little..."

"Young." Tommen finished for her. It was his turn to chuckle now. "I understand your confusion, my lady. I'm going through a bit of a...change, you might say. I want to do more and learn more than I have been," Tommen placed his book on his knees and sighed. "I know I'm never going to be the king. But maybe," He shifted his feet as he tried to find the right words. "Maybe I can be more 'kingly' if that's a word." He tilted his head to Margaery and smiled. "Maybe I can get a nickname like your grandmother. King of Books?" He looked back to Ser Balon. "What do you think, does that sound impressive Ser Balon?"

The knight gave a swift nod. "Very much so, your grace."

Another escaped from Margaery's lips. "A very impressive nickname, your grace. And I do apologize if I offended you." Tommen felt a hand gently touch the back of his head. "All of us should strive to be as 'kingly' as we can be," Margaery said.

Tommen felt a slight tug in his chest at both her words and the gaze of her eyes. "N-No offense was given, my lady." He replied. A trio of handmaidens had appeared a few feet away from Margaery, all wearing gowns with visible roses on them.

"It appears I'm needed elsewhere," Margaery said, standing up and giving a curtsy. "It's been wonderful, your grace. When my family comes to the wedding, you must meet them."

Tommen stood as well and gave a slight bow. "I'd love to, your grace."

Margaery smiled at his words before turning to meet her handmaidens. When she disappeared into the gardens, Tommen felt his legs grow weak and sat back down.

"Be careful, prince." Ser Balon said.

"Did I do something wrong?" Tommen asked.

"Nothing any normal man would hold against you." Ser Balon said, his voice became a whisper as he put a hand on the prince's shoulder. "But be careful all the same. With Lady Stark out of his hair, the King may try to find someone else to torment. Don't give him a reason to look your way."

Tommen looked at the Kingsguard with a confused expression but it quickly shifted to one of worry. Joffrey had treated Sansa horribly. Would he do the same to Margaery or...

Sansa. The thought hit him like an arrow. Where was she going to fit into things now? If Joffrey was going to marry Margaery, did that mean Sansa was going to be let go? A smile came to his face. That had to be it. How else would she be out of Joffrey's grip? He needed to find her and say goodbye.

Sansa had always been kind to him. When he and his family first went to Winterfell, she'd been the one to practice dancing with him. She was better at it than he was, but despite the age and height difference between them, he felt like he could keep up just enough to not look embarrassing. As he looked back on it now, he was sure he had failed in that attempt but nevertheless, he had fun and found a friend in her. Perhaps the only one he ever had aside from his sister Myrcella. Even after she lost her Direwolf, her father, and had to suffer from Joffrey's rage, she never stopped making time to play and dance with him. He owed her something for that, at least a proper goodbye.

He found her at the opposite end of the gardens. Well away from any Tyrell handmaiden or Lannister guard, staring out over the water with a little smile on her face.

"Sansa?" Tommen asked.

His voice seemed to startle her. "Oh, hello Tommen." She said, quickly losing the smile. "Are you feeling better?"

"Why does everyone think I was sick?" Tommen asked, sitting down next to her. "I just wanted some time to think about things."

"Forgive me," Sansa said. "What were you thinking about then?"

"This and that," Tommen replied. " Recently, I've thought about you to. I've been told you aren't going to marry Joffrey anymore."

The smile returned to her face. "Yes, it seems his grace has grown fond of someone else."

Tommen nodded. "But what worries me is where that leaves my dancing partner."

Sansa's smile grew a bit at his words. "We haven't danced for some time, your grace."

Tommen frowned. "No. No, we haven't. Not much to dance about with my uncle Stannis attacking."

Sansa's smile shifted to a frown at the mention of the man's name. "Yes, there wasn't a lot of cheer among your family when he was coming. I'm sure that's changed now."

"I wish you could share in that cheer, Sansa," Tommen said. "Maybe now that Joffrey is marrying someone else you can...find a way to be happy."

Sansa let out a crippled chuckle at his words. "Happy?" She shook her head. "Going back home would make me happy, and they know that. That's why they won't let me."

Tommen couldn't think of a response to that and for a while, the two of them sat in silence watching the waves. "Is there anything I can do?" Tommen asked.

Sansa blinked, surprised by the offer and smiled. "You're kind Tommen. You always have been. Don't let me bother you."

"I mean it," Tommen said, guilt weighing heavy on his chest. "And if my mother and brother won't let you go home, maybe I..."

He stopped in the middle of speaking. The idea in his head was foolish and he knew speaking aloud would only make it seem more foolish. It would make him a liar if he was wrong. And he had no desire to be like Joffrey.

"I...I'm sorry, Sansa," Tommen said.

Sansa's smile faltered but she felt gratitude towards him all the same. "You're kind, Tommen. You always have been. Don't let me bother you. I'm sure his grace will find some use for me."

She left him after that, giving only a curtsy before vanishing back in the Red Keep.

Tommen curled his empty fist into a ball. He wanted to tell her what he was going to do, but he didn't want to be like Joffrey. Before he told Sansa anything, he'd have to make sure she was leaving. That meant going back to his search for the man he had started for, his grandfather. Though now he would go with questions about the Starks and not the Tyrells. He turned his head to Ser Balon.

"I'm sorry I'm leading you all over the place," Tommen said to the knight. "I need to see my grandfather. Do you know where he could be?"

"I imagine he's in the Tower of the Hand," Balon answered. "Lord Tyrion spent time there when he was the acting Hand."

Tommen nodded and started marching only to pause. Ser Balon followed suit and flashed a small smile under his helm. The idea of a Lannister apologizing for anything seemed as ludicrous as the Wall toppling over and yet the prince had done so to a person he should never feel the need to apologize to. It was equal halves strange and comforting to hear. Tommen paused his movement and looked back at him. "I don't know where the Tower of the Hand is."

* * *

The last thing Tywin expected that day was a knock on his door. With Tyrion still recuperating and Cersei distracting Joffrey with wedding plans, he had been prepared for a solitary evening of quiet letter writing. There were many pieces that made King's Landing turn and many more still that made up the war effort. All of which, he needed to have an active understanding in now that he was out of the field. He had no time for distractions.

Another knock came through and just when he was about to send whoever it was away, a voice reached his ears.

"Grandfather? Can I come in?"

He almost didn't recognize the voice. "Tommen?"

"Yes. I'd like to talk to you about...things."

Tywin got up from his desk and walked over to the door. Just as the voice had promised, his grandson stood just outside along with his protector Ser Balon.

"What is it?"

"Can I come in?" Tommen asked again.

"I don't have time to play with you Tommen." He said firmly.

"I know," Tommen replied. "I want to help Sansa."

The Stark girl? For the first time in a long time, Tywin felt the strings of curiosity dance in his mind.

"What interest is she to you?"

"She's my friend," Tommen replied. "And I wanted to know if we were going to do anything to her now that Joffrey isn't going to marry her."

The strings tightened as Tywin's curiosity turned to interest. The boy in front of him seemed different from how he was before. There was no passivity in his stance or voice. Tywin opened the door further and allowed Tommen inside. Ser Balon knew his duty and quickly turned his back to the pair as the door closed behind him.

"When did you acquire this newfound interest in Sansa Stark?" Tywin asked, walking back over to his desk.

"...She's my friend" Tommen repeated after a moment. The cold of his grandfather's voice stirred a fear inside his stomach that he wasn't used to feeling. He did his best to keep it down but Tywin knew he was uncomfortable.

"And I want to help her."

"You didn't use to." Tywin pointed out. "Did you comfort her when her wolf was killed on the Kingsroad?"

"N-No."

"When her father was executed?"

"N-No but..." Tommen's fear began to contort as his grandfather's words hit his ears.

"When Joffrey was mistreating her, perhaps?" Tywin asked, noticing something stirring in the boy. "I was not here for those events but it seems to me that she's suffered a great deal already. And if you consider her a friend..."

"I've been a bad friend!" Tommen blurted out. The outburst did little to comfort under the hawkish gaze of his grandfather but Tommen continued all the same. "I've been a bad friend and a bad prince," Tommen said, taking a seat across from Tywin's desk. "I want to start helping people. My friends, my family. Anybody I can. I don't want..." He paused for a moment, attempting to calm himself down. "...I don't want anyone to be afraid again. Not mother, not my brother, not Sansa, and not me."

As silence once again returned to the room, Tywin's neutral face hid an increasingly fast turning mind. Tommen had never been high on his list of priorities, as the boy was...Well, a boy. Younger than Joffrey and expected to act even more like a child. He had been raised the same way as his brother after all. What reason did Tywin have to ever hope that he'd turn out differently?

And yet, he had. Or at least had started to change. While his wishes for helping people was fanciful and naive, what was important was coming to see him. That simple act told Tywin everything he needed to know. Even if Tommen hadn't yet recognized it, he wanted to start learning the ways of protecting the family. And the thought was enough to make the old lion feel a rare twinge of pride.

"I see," Tywin leaned back against his chair. "As it happens, I haven't yet decided what to do with Sansa Stark."

A small flame of hope burned in Tommen's eyes. "Does that mean we can send her home? Back to her family?"

"Her family are traitors to the crown." Tywin pointed out. "They are at war with us."

"Yes, but can't we send her back in exchange for peace?" Tommen asked. "If her mother is anything like mine, she'll be happy to see her daughter again."

"Lady Catelyn would be overjoyed to see her child returned to her." Tywin agreed. "And if she was the one ruling the North, it might be that simple to end the war. But she doesn't rule the North. Her son does."

"But won't he want to see Sansa?" Tommen asked.

"Possibly," Tywin said. "But not enough to cease the rebellion he started. It has grown beyond returning family. It's about independence."

"Independence?" The word sounded strange to Tommen. "For all the North?"

Tywin nodded. "The boy is called the King in the North now. And he has yet to lose a battle against us. Even if he would seek peace, his men are too hopeful for victory to listen."

Tommen's own mind began to turn with the information his grandfather was giving him and he had yet to master the neutral expression his grandfather had so Tywin could see it plainly. The boy was actually thinking about the problem.

"But, why?" Tommen asked. "Why do they want independence from the Seven Kingdoms?

Tywin's gaze sharpened at the question but allowed Tommen to continue thinking. The realization hit Tommen like a wave. "Joffrey."

Tywin nodded. "Robb Stark can't bear the weight of kneeling to the person who killed his father. He's simply hiding that fact behind the idea of being an independent kingdom."

Tommen fell back into his chair and let out a sigh. "This is hard."

Tywin felt long-forgotten muscles in his cheeks twitch at the sight. "This is ruling." He corrected. He looked out his window and saw the light from the sun beginning to fade. This whole event had been interesting but he did still have a kingdom to rule. "You said you want to be useful Tommen. I have a job for you."

Tommen straightened his back at his grandfather's words. "I want you to tell me how you would send Sansa Stark home and bring Robb Stark and the North back into the fold."

"Now?" Tommen asked.

"No, I want you to really think about this problem," Tywin said. "I want you to study all the aspects of it and report back to me in a few days' time. I want every plausible solution you can think of and I want you to take this task seriously." His voice hardened on that last bit to prove he was serious. He stood up from his chair and moved to his grandson's side. "You're starting to act like a proper prince now." He placed a hand on his grandson's shoulder. "I expect you to maintain that line of thinking from this point on, understood?"

A new feeling swelled inside the young prince. He wanted to prove he could do this. He wanted to prove to his grandfather, his mother, Sansa, Margaery, and everyone else that he could do something. He nodded at Tywin and stood up as well. The two walked back to the door and when it closed behind Tommen, he looked up to Ser Balon with a newfound zeal. "How many books on the North do we have in the library?" Tommen asked.

"I don't know my lord," Balon replied.

"Do you know who would?" Tommen asked.

"The Grand Maester perhaps, or lord Tyrion."

Tommen nodded and let out a yawn.

"Will you be turning in my lord?" Balon asked.

Tommen shook his head. "My grandfather gave me a job. I don't want to disappoint him."

* * *

_**A/N: And there we go. My first attempt at a story about GOT. God knows I need something to do with my love for the universe after season 8. **_

_**Anyway, what did you guys think? I hope its not too horrible of a start. I always wondered what would've happened if Tommen had actually inherited a bit of his grandfather and uncle's instincts for politics and learning. How things might've played out with him as king. Here's my attempt to make it a reality.**_

_** Also, my knowledge of the books is incredibly limited so if I made a huge mistake in regards to the universe GOT was created from, don't hesitate to let me know.**_

_**As the song goes, Hit me with your best shot.**_


	2. Chapter 2: Making Plans

Tommen spent the next several days going through any book on the North that Grand Maester Pycelle recommended. And when he saw the size of some of them, he knew reading through each one was going to be a hindrance. He was able to eliminate a few straight away. Several fantasy stories about Bran the Builder and the brave Starks from the Age of Heroes were of no use to him now. He needed something a bit more real. Something that could help send Sansa home and stop the North from rebelling, and he wasn't going to find that in books meant for children.

That left him with several more tomes on northern trade, houses, and previous Kings in the North. Not quite the exciting reading of the heroic tales but it did help paint a better picture for the North as a whole and how it's army worked. The more he learned, the more Tommen realized just how difficult of a problem his grandfather was facing.

The North was very isolated so that meant marching an army up to it would difficult, and even if Tywin could, it wouldn't last long with a lack of food or resources. To have a steady foothold in the region, they'd have to conquer the city of Whiteharbour and ship food and supplies up that way. That might be and if his grandfather was right, all were now united by the idea of independence. A unified kingdom led by a talented commander who had yet to lose a battle was a dangerous foe.

"Ser Balon?" Tommen asked.

"Yes, your grace?"

"Do you know anything about the North?"

"Not a great deal, your grace," Balon admitted. "I've spent my life in the Stormlands and the Crownlands. Any opinions I have on the North come from lord Eddard Stark and the soldiers that came with him."

Eddard Stark. Tommen tried to picture the man in his mind. What he looked like, how he acted. Searching for any clue that could give him insight into his son. "And what are those opinions?" Tommen asked.

"The soldiers were loyal to their leader," Balon said. "More so than I expected them to be."

"Why were you surprised," Tommen asked.

"The Northmen were very opinionated, your grace." Ser Balon said. "And their opinions often went against their lord's own. There was this one soldier, Jory, I think. He thought coming down to Kings Landing was a horrible idea. And made no secret of it to the rest of the Northmen."

Tommen raised his eyebrows. "And Lord Stark didn't punish him for his words?"

Balon shook his head. "There was no need. Because there wasn't a more loyal soldier in his entire guard."

"What about Ned Stark, himself?" Tommen asked. "Did you meet him?"

"No more than a passing glance, your grace," Balon said. "But I respected him. I'd heard stories of his honorable nature and when I saw the man in person, they seemed to be true. At least until he tried to dethrone your brother."

Tommen frowned, thinking back to that terrible ordeal. The cries Sansa had let out trying to save him were said to have been heard across the entire city. "Do you think he deserved to die?" Tommen asked. "You may speak freely."

"The King's justice seemed harsh to my eye, your grace." Ser Balon admitted. "For certain, a punishment was required for taking up arms against the king. But to execute a man in front of his pleading daughter..." Ser Balon sighed. "I suppose it doesn't matter now."

"I'm not so certain," Tommen said. The boy gave one last look through his book before closing it. "I need to know everything I can about Eddard Stark if I want to have any idea how Robb thinks."

"The Young Wolf?" Ser Balon asked. "Why do you want to know about him?"

"As I said, my grandfather gave me a job," Tommen replied, "And I need to find out as much as I can about Robb if I'm going to complete it.

* * *

After his sister had been "kind enough" to visit him, Tyrion was certain that no one else would be knocking at his new chambers unless whoever tried to have him killed back in the Bay wanted to finish the job. With Bronn and Podrick out in the city taking note of the damages done to during the invasion, his door had been locked tight and he was settling back into his habit of drinking wine as he waited. He wondered about asking Shae to pay a visit but with his father here, they couldn't afford to be as open as they were before. Any meetings between them would have to be planned for now.

That left him alone in his room save for a pitcher full of wine and a desperate need to forget about no longer being Hand. Which he would've gladly started on had he not heard the voice that came with the knocking. "Uncle?"

As the voice promised, Tyrion met his youngest nephew right at the door with Ser Balon right by his side. "Tommen. I'm surprised to see you here."

His nephew inspected his face. "Joffrey thought you lost a nose."

"I'm sure he hoped I did," Tyrion replied. He ran a finger across his new scar before continuing. "Kind of you to come and see me Tommen. I'd have thought you'd be..."

"In my room, trying to act like the city hadn't been invaded?" Tommen asked back.

"Preoccupied, was the word I was going for," Tyrion said. The tone in his nephew's struck him as odd. "In any case, what do you want? If you're looking for a playmate..."

Tommen entered Tyrion's chambers with a frown. "Mother, Joffrey, and grandfather have all made the same comment so I'd appreciate it if you didn't."

Tyrion grew a smirk at the remark and closed the door. Something had indeed changed in his nephew. "Very well then. What do you want with me?"

"I'm hoping you can help me with Sansa."

"Sansa?" Tyrion asked. He beckoned his nephew over to his table and they sat down. "What's your interest in her?"

"I want to find a way to help her get home and stop the war with her family," Tommen said.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow as he poured himself a cup of wine. "Ah, an easy challenge, I'm sure."

"Well, it doesn't feel like it." Tommen sighed in his chair. "I've been going over every book on the North I can find, and I'm coming up empty."

One surprise after another it seemed. First, his nephew comes to see him, then tells him he's trying to find a way to end the war with the Starks, and then it appears he's taking the task seriously. Tyrion's smirk grew into a smile. "I'm not sure a book is going to help you in this matter. Unless Eddard Stark wrote one and it gave detailed accounts of everyone in his family."

"You think he did?" Tommen asked.

"Not to my knowledge," Tyrion said. "And you'd be wasting time trying to look for one."

"I asked Grandfather about trading Sansa back to her family in return for their surrender. But he doesn't think it will work with Robb Stark wanting independence." Tommen said.

The idea of Tommen discussing anything with Tywin was such a strange image. "He's right," Tyrion said. "Independence is too big a cause for a king to throw away, quickly. Especially, when such a king has yet to lose a battle."

Tommen's eyes lit up at the word. "Quickly?"

Tyrion smirked. "A man can give up any cause if it's made to look impossible to achieve. And if he can't, the men who follow him can."

Tommen blinked and locked his fingers together. "So, I need to make it look like independence can't be achieved."

"That's one possible solution," Tyrion said. "But there are several others, as well. There's the outcome of achieving what you want only to find out you can't keep it."

"What do you mean?" Tommen asked.

"Let's say, Robb Stark continues to win battles and somehow Joffrey allows the North's independence. A fantasy of course, but that part matters little. Now Robb Stark has achieved his desired goal. What does he do next?"

Tommen paused for a moment as he thought. "...He'd still be king so he'd be ruling."

"Correct," Tyrion said. "But now he must face problems that he could've ignored before. Winter is on the way so food must be systematically gathered. With the North now independent, they'll need to write down and negotiate entire new trade deals with either the Throne or Essos to make sure trade continues to flow. If it stops, a good many Northmen will die when Winter truly comes."

Tommen nodded at his uncle's words and thought back to his family's journey to the North. He couldn't recall much of it, but he had been reading that farming in the North was incredibly limited. Especially when compared to the likes of the Reach, they simply didn't have the means to supply a good amount of food. "I can't remember much from Robb Stark when we were at Winterfell," Tommen said. "Did he seem like a man who could sit down and write out trade deals?"

Tyrion let out a chuckle. "The boy has surprised us plenty, so I wouldn't be shocked if he did. But getting back to the point, he'd have to do all of this himself. The North would be on its own and have to survive without the food or protection of the Crown."

Tommen frowned at the statement. "When was the last time, the Crown protected the North?"

Tyrion blinked for a moment before shaking his head. "A fair point." He poured another cup of wine before asking the question his father did. "Why such an interest in Sansa? You never seemed to pay her much mind before."

Tommen sighed as he looked down at his feet. "I don't think I've been a good friend. Or a good prince. While you and grandfather were out trying to save us, I was hiding away pretending nothing was happening. While my brother was tormenting my friend, I stayed in my room and didn't do anything to help."

The guilt in his voice worried Tyrion. "You're a child. It's no crime to act like one."

"I don't want to act like a child," Tommen said. "Not...Not anymore." He looked back up to his uncle with a new fire in his eyes. "I want to help. I want to help my family and my friends. I want to stop this war, and I don't want to be afraid again."

Tyrion couldn't hide a smile at the boy's resolve. Whether it was sincere or not would be proved in time, but one little detail lingered in his mind. "Afraid?" Tyrion asked.

Tommen frowned at the word but nodded. "Before Grandfather came for us, Mother and I were waiting in the throne room. She seemed so scared and I was too. I thought I was going to die like Eddard Stark. I don't want to feel that way again."

Tyrion was silent for a moment as he considered his nephew's words. In short, they were astonishing. The goodness in the boy was still there but something had shifted inside. It seemed he wanted to take a more active roll in things, and in doing so, actually help the people close to him. A rare quality in any family. Let alone the Lannisters.

He took another sip of wine and wondered where Tommen might've gotten in from. Certainly not Cersei or Tywin. Jamie, perhaps? Maybe... A portrait of a woman came to his mind. A woman he had killed the day he was born. If anything good was in their family, it had to come from her.

"Uncle?" Tommen asked, worried about the far-away look in his eyes.

Tyrion shook his and refocused. "Apologies nephew, my mind got away from me." He tapped his fingers together as he pondered the situation. "It's difficult to win this war and keep Sansa's family alive. Especially while Joffrey is on the throne."

"But not impossible?" Tommen asked.

Tyrion nodded. "Certainly not. As I said, all we need is for Robb Stark and his men to realize that independence is unachievable or not worth having. Especially with the Greyjoys running wild."

Tommen felt his mind slow at the word. Greyjoys?

Tyrion smiled at the face of realization his nephew had made. "You hadn't considered the Ironborn?" He asked.

Tommen shook his head. "I was so focused on the Starks and the North, I didn't think... He smiled at his uncle. "What has the Ironborn done to the North?"

Tyrion thought back to the letters he'd gotten while as Hand. "What they usually do. Raid and destroy anything they can get their hands on. While Robb Stark has been fighting us, they've been running wild through the North."

"But I thought Robb Stark and Theon Greyjoy were friends," Tommen said.

Tyrion frowned at the sentence. "Perhaps they were, perhaps they weren't. Either way, the Greyjoy boy has sided with his own family in this matter. He even managed to steal Winterfell out from under Robb's nose.

Tommen didn't try to hide his astonishment. Taking Winterfell away from the Starks must've been a huge blow to Robb's pride.

"And..." Tyrion paused, silently debating with himself on whether to reveal this information to his nephew. Tommen tapped his finger as he waited before Tyrion continued. "...It's rumored that he murdered Bran and Rickon Stark."

Tommen's eyes dimmed at the words. He thought back to Winterfell and the boy who always seemed to be climbing around. He had taken a bad fall before they left the castle but Tommen had hoped that maybe he would get better. As far as he knew, he never did. And even if he had, he and his baby brother were now dead. "That's sad." The prince said.

Tyrion nodded. "It is. Bran was a tough boy. I met him on my way back from the Wall." He remembered the stubborn boy's eyes light up when he saw Tyrion's designs for a saddle. He sighed. "A betrayal such as that would haunt anyone. Especially a Stark, I'd imagine."

Tommen looked at the pitcher of wine his uncle was drinking from and ran through all the information he had now had. The Starks wanted independence, but perhaps that want could be mitigated with the right pressure. The Starks didn't have Winterfell, Theon had betrayed them and killed Robb's brothers. And the Ironborn were running wild through the North, raiding or killing anything they came across.

Slowly, pieces began to fall into place. Even if Robb hated Tommen's family for the death of his father, he'd have to hate the Greyjoys just as much if not more so. The same could be said for the Northmen. They'd been fighting Lannister soldiers, but Lannister soldiers weren't the ones ransacking their homes like the Ironborn were. Wouldn't that be a better enemy to fight?

Tyrion watched in fascination as his nephew's mind turned. He wondered what Cersei would say if he saw a child of hers think about problems instead of acting like a cruel little fool.

"Does Grandfather know about this?" Tommen asked.

"I'd imagine there's little Tywin Lannister doesn't know about," Tyrion replied. "Nevertheless, I think he will be interested to hear what you have to say. It would please him to see that one of his grandsons take ruling seriously."

Tommen nodded at his uncle and took in a breath. "He's kind of scary, Grandfather."

Tyrion nearly choked on his wine. "That-That he is." Tyrion made out through chuckling. "The man is probably the most dangerous Lannister out of all of us. And I'm including your brother and mother."

Tommen's lips curled. "I'm glad we have him here with us, but what are you going to do now?"

Tyrion shrugged. "I'm sure he'll have a job or two for me. Despite our relationship, things are still expected from a Lannister." He smiled at his nephew. "And despite the Baratheon name, you are still a Lannister in his eyes. He'll have expectations for you too."

Tommen nodded. "Thank you, uncle. Would you mind if I came to talk to you more?"

"Not at all," Tyrion replied as his nephew stood up. "I'm thankful for a voice that doesn't drink my wine or kill my attackers."

"Attackers?" Tommen asked.

"At the Blackwater, a Kingsguard gave me this," Tyrion said, running a finger across his scar. "My squire, Podrick Payne saved my life by ending his."

Tommen left his uncle's chambers feeling more confident and more worried. His uncle was a great help when it came to forming a plan for the Starks but the last bit of information he revealed made Tommen nervous. A Kingsguard tried to kill him? During the battle? That didn't make any sense. Tyrion was out fighting off Stannis' forces. He was trying to save their family. What sense did it make for someone to try and kill him then?

"Ser Balon, did you know the Kingsguard who tried to kill uncle Tyrion?"

Ser Balon shook his head. "Ser Mandon Moore was a quiet man, your grace. Kept mostly to himself. As far as I know, he was just as loyal to the Crown as any other Kingsguard."

"Loyal to the Crown..." Tommen repeated the words as they walked out into the gardens. The answer was obvious now. His uncle had probably figured it out days before Tommen even came to him. "I know my brother doesn't like my uncle but trying to have him killed was stupid."

Ser Balon remained silent as Tommen turned back to face him. "If...If Joffrey wanted to hurt someone else, would you stop him if I told you too?"

"I'm a Kingsguard, your grace." Ser Balon reminded him. "I'm sworn to obey his commands. Whether I like them or not."

"So if he told you to hurt uncle Tyrion, Sansa, or..." Tommen swallowed as a horrible thought ran through his head. "or me, you would?"

Ser Balon frowned but didn't try to lie to the prince. He gave a swift nod. "I pray to the gods it never comes to that."

Tommen felt a chill run up his spine as he realized he was just as defenseless now as he was with his mother during the battle. That needed to change. He thought back to the stories about his late father. The mighty Robert Baratheon and his skill with a Warhammer. He hadn't needed guards when he fought Rhaegar Targaryen at the Trident. He had done it himself.

Tommen looked at the sword on his guard's side. "Ser Balon, what can I order you to do?"

Ser Balon noticed the glance."Anything that doesn't directly go against the king, your grace."

Tommen smiled at his words. "I want to learn how to use a sword."

After a brief discussion, the two went back to the prince's chambers and remained there until late in the day. By the time the moon had risen, Tommen stood at his window looking out into the night. The night wind was pleasant to the touch and the young prince always liked looking out towards the ocean. It never ceased to bring a feeling of calm to him, even on the day Myrcella left the city.

He felt his chest tighten at the thought of his sister. Was she okay? What was she doing now? Did she know about the battle? He'd been so caught up with everything in the last few days he had almost forgotten about her. He wondered if it was possible to see her, either to go visit her in Dorne or bring her back to King's Landing. He missed her voice and smile and sent a quiet prayer to the Seven that she was happy and safe.

When they did meet again, she wouldn't see a crying boy watching helplessly as she sailed away. She'd see a prince of the Seven Kingdoms. A Lion that was willing and able to protect everyone close to him.

* * *

**A/N: There's another one. Hope you guys enjoyed it and I'm sorry about the wait. Life just gets in the way of these things and if its not that it's school getting in the way. **

**See ya next chapter. **


	3. Chapter 3: Knowing your Place

Time passed quickly for the young prince. Between reading books, talking to his uncle, and training with Ser Balon, he was never lacking something to do. After the first few days, he worked out a schedule for himself.  
He'd spend his mornings at breakfast reading through whatever book on the North he could get his hands on. By midday, he would begin training with Ser Balon and try to work out the basics of sword fighting. An activity that he found didn't come quite as easily as reading. Swords had never really been an interest for him and Ser Balon was a strict instructor who didn't mince words after their first day was done.

"If there's any of your uncle in you, we'll have to dig it out."

The prince had suspected he wouldn't be nearly as good as his uncle Jaime was but hearing those words made him wonder if he had any talent for the sword at all. The doubts worked well with the soreness that came with learning how to fight. Couldn't he be a good prince if he didn't learn how to fight? History had plenty of examples of great men who never picked up a sword in their lives. Maybe he didn't have to.

Scarcely had the thought entered his head did his mother's words ring through his mind. "You are a lion." He pictured that night in his mind, the scared look on her face, the fear he felt at the shouts and rumbles coming from outside the throne room. And with the Battle of Blackwater on his mind, the doubts faded. He had promised himself he wouldn't feel like that again and the only way to do that was to learn how to defend himself. On the next day of training, he met Ser Balon with a much more stable mind and though the results were still poor, Tommen felt much better by the end of their session.

In the evenings, he would go to his uncle Tyrion and talk about whatever was on his mind. Usually about the war with the North but also the state of his King's Landing in the aftermath of the battle, the workings of the realm and who was important, anything that could increase his knowledge on how the wider world was turning. This was usually his favorite time of the day. His uncle had always been funny, but Tommen never appreciated how smart he was. His time up North and in the Vale aside, he'd have answers to questions Tommen hadn't thought to ask and he never treated him like a child. A habit that his mother still seemed to cling too. As far as the young prince was concerned, Tyrion was just behind grandfather when it came to the smartest people in King's Landing.

"Oh, I'm not sure about that," Tyrion said. "At the very least, give Varys some credit."

"Varys?"

Tyrion smirked at the interest on his nephew's face. "What do you know about him, Tommen?"

"Not much," Tommen admitted. "I know he's the Master of Whispers."

Tyrion nodded. "He certainly is. The man probably knows more than myself or your grandfather combined and uses his knowledge to serve himself and the crown."

"How's he so smart?"

"Spies," His uncle answered. "I'd wager half the servants in the Red Keep report to him with the other half being split between Littlefinger and your mother."

Tommen's eyes widened at the last part. "Mother has spies?"

"Oh yes," Tyrion said, his smirk fading. "Honestly, I'm surprised she hasn't stopped you from coming to visit me."

Tommen frowned. "Why would she do that?"

Tyrion wondered how to phrase it to his nephew. "She and I...have never gotten along." He said. "With Joffrey's marriage on her mind, she might be too preoccupied to notice our talks but I suspect she'll take issue soon enough."

Joffrey's marriage. Tommen slunk back into his chair at the words. The idea of Joffrey marrying anyone, let alone the nice pretty girl he had met in the gardens proved difficult to picture. Wasn't a marriage supposed to make people happy? That's what the books he read when he was younger always told him. The only time Joffrey seemed happy was when he was hurting someone else. Did Margaery like hurting people too and he just didn't know?

Tyrion wanted to laugh at the contemplative look on his nephew's face. "Hard to imagine your brother getting married?"

"It's hard to imagine anyone wanting to stand next to him, let alone marry him," Tommen was surprised by the venom in his voice but it brought a smile to his uncle's face.

"You'd be surprised at how many women can ignore the questionable parts of a man as long as they have a crown on their head," Tyrion said. "Gold has a similar effect, but nothing quite outshines the crown. And even if she finds him detestable, she owes it to her family to secure the alliance with us.

Tommen looked at his uncle with an idealistic glimmer in his eye. "I guess I just thought marriage was supposed to make people happy."

Tyrion stiffened at the prince's words, thinking back to a time when he used to believe them. The smell of the Sunset sea, a beautiful voice singing to him in the night. "For the common folk perhaps. For those of us with power, we rarely find such happiness."

Tommen grew worried at the distant look in his uncle's eyes. "Did I say something wrong?"

Tyrion willed himself back to the present and shook his head. "Apologies, nephew. I don't think I'll be of any more help tonight. Not without some wine, anyway. We can continue tomorrow if you wish."

As the sun began to dip over the horizon, Tommen walked back to his room in high spirits. His plots with Tyrion had been about as poor as his training with Ser Balon but he enjoyed listening just as much to his uncle as he did the knight. With time, he could hopefully become skilled enough in both areas. But until then, he would do his best to take in everything they offered. Even if the results left him bruised and feeling simple.

To his surprise, he found a familiar face in the halls of Red Keep. "Lady Sansa?"

The Stark girl turned toward him and he saw a smile that seemed to make the dim hall light up as she curtsied. "Prince Tommen, how are you?"

"I'm doing well," Tommen said, returning the smile. "You seem to be in a fine mood."

"I've been talking with lady Margaery," Sansa said.

"Really," Tommen's smile faltered as he realized he had let the Tyrell family slip his mind. He needed to study them just as much as the Starks. "What do you think of the soon to be Queen?"

"She's kind," Sansa said. "She doesn't look at me like I'm a traitor."

The mention of the word reminded Tommen of his brother's harsh treatment of her. "And has Joffrey...bothered you since she arrived?"

Sansa shook her head. "His grace has focused on other objects since the Battle of Blackwater. It's been...nice."

Tommen let out a weak sigh as he wondered how long it would last. "Would you mind if I asked you something, Sansa?"

Sansa had no issue with the request and the pair moved through the Red Keep together. "I've been trying to figure out a way around this war. A way to bring peace to our families again." He put on a dismal smile. "It's not going as easily as I had hoped."

Sansa bobbed her head. "I can imagine."

"Can you?" Tommen asked. "That's good, I could use a Stark mind."

Sansa looked confused by his words. "What are you asking, my lord?"

"You know Robb, and I hope you got along with him better than me and Joffrey. How would you make him talk to me?"

"Talk to you?" Sansa repeated.

Tommen nodded. "I want to bring the North back into the Seven Kingdoms. And I want to try and keep your family as their rulers. Can you help me with this?"

"What help do you have in mind, my lord?" There was a tone of suspicion in her voice that hurt the prince but he chose to move past it. "How much do you know about the War?"

"I know the lords are calling it the War of Five Kings," Sansa said.

"Very good, so who are the kings?"

"Joffrey, Robb, Stannis, Renly before he perished, and..." Her mind blanked on the final name. "Forgive me, your grace. I don't know the fifth."

Tommen took that as a sign that she didn't know about her brothers or Winterfell. "Balon Greyjoy." He said. "He's started his rebellion again and attacked the North."

There was a look of fear in her eyes as soon as he mentioned the family name. "Greyjoy? But Theon... Theon's still with Robb. Why would he..."

A small nose down the hall reminded him of his talk with his uncle and the various spies in the Red Keep. "Would you mind if we moved to your chambers, Sansa?"

Sansa looked puzzled by the suggestion but nodded her head all the same. Did she not know about the spies either? If she didn't then should he tell her? She was his friend but at the same time, he wasn't sure he trusted her.

Once they were behind closed doors, Tommen relayed the unfortunate news to her. The sacking of her home, the murder of her brothers, the betrayal of their family friend. It was grim news and she took it as grimly as he expected. Sobs filled the room and leaked out into the evening air through an open window. Tommen knew he could do little to ease her pain and sat in silence beside her. By the time she had calmed down, all the strength seemed to have left her body and her spirit looked too crushed to talk about anything. Tommen decided they could continue this talk later and he started to move away.

"Tommen,"

He turned back around to the lost wolf.

"Thank you, for telling me." Sansa worked out, wiping her eyes and letting out a shaky breath. "Others wouldn't have been as kind."

Tommen felt strange at her words but nodded all the same. "Get some rest, we can talk about this later."

With the door closed behind him and the image of a sobbing friend ingrained in his mind, Tommen started back to his chambers. He hadn't gotten ten steps in before he was greeted by someone he would've liked to avoid.

"Brother." Joffrey greeted with a smile. "You're out late."

Tommen fought the urge to frown at the sight of the king and his usual guards Meryn Trant and put on a weak smile of his own. "Just out for a walk. Thinking about things."

"Is that right?" Joffrey asked, marching towards him. "And why are you walking so close to Sansa's chambers?"

"I wasn't aware I was," Tommen replied. He tensed at the feel of his older brother's hand on his shoulder. "Something wrong, brother?"

Joffrey's smile seemed to stretch. "Not at all." He said. "I was just about to tell Sansa about her traitor brothers' demise. Would you like to join me?"

"I've already told her," Tommen answered quickly.

Joffrey's smile faded. "Oh? I wasn't aware you knew."

"I'm starting to know a lot of things," Tommen said, matching the glare that Joffrey was giving him, despite the difference in size, Tommen felt oddly taller than before. "For instance, I don't like seeing my friend cry."

"Look at you," Joffrey chuckled. "Acting like a little lion." Tommen felt his brother's grip tighten as Joffrey leaned in closer to his ear. "Who still hasn't grown any claws."

A swift punch to Tommen's stomach knocked the air straight from his lungs. As he collapsed to his knees and started coughing he could feel his brother sneering at the back of his head. "That whore belongs to a family of traitors. She is not your friend."

In between breaths, Tommen's anger began to swell in his chest. He stood back and met his brother's gaze again, surprising him. "Well, someone's feeling brave." He snickered at the pained expression on his brother's face and held out his hands. "Do you want to strike me, Tommen?"

Tommen's breathing was rapid as his fists curled into balls. Yet he remained in place. "N-No. And I don't know why you want me too."

A spark of annoyance appeared in Joffrey's eye. "I want you to know your place, brother. Our uncle has often forgotten his."

So he heard about his visits with Tyrion. Was that what this was about? "Is that why you tried to have him killed?" Tommen asked. His rage began to work its way into his voice. "He's our uncle!"

"He's a disgusting dwarf," Joffrey replied. "Killing him would rid our family of the mistake our grandfather made."

Tommen's rage began to grow again but one glance towards Meryn Trant made it plain to not do anything desperate. He kept silent and avoided his brother's gaze until the king seemed satisfied. "If you knew what was good for you, you'd stay away from him," Joffrey said, turning his back to his brother.

"Brother,"

Joffrey halted in mid-step.

"Why do you act this way?" The anger in his chest began to fade as Tommen asked the question. "Why do you have to torment everyone you come across?"

Joffrey spun around and gave a little smile. "Because I can. That's the power of being king. Something you'll never understand. Besides, that was far from torment, little brother. I can do much worse." He glanced at the still frame of Ser Balon. "Any time I wish.

With one last sneer, Joffrey turned away and started back the way he came, with Ser Meryn right at his back. For a brief moment, Tommen considered charging after him, but the idea passed as soon as it appeared. This was nothing new. Joffrey had never liked Tommen, or if he had, it was so long ago no one could remember it. Tommen always hoped he did at some point. It gave him comfort to think of a younger, less evil Joffrey looking after his siblings. Even if the memory was a lie.

"Are you all right?" Ser Balon asked, not bothering to hide a guilty tone.

Tommen nodded. The air had returned to his lungs by now, but the situation had left him shaky and alert. He wasn't going to be able to rest for a good while now.

The prince made his way down towards the Red Keep's beach. It was a private little place. Well away from the bustling lords and ladies that roamed the castle's walls and gardens. If his memory could be relied on, he, Myrcella, and even Joffrey had spent many a day playing there before they got older. Joffrey never visited the place anymore, and Tommen hadn't been back to it since Myrcella left for Dorne.

It hadn't changed much in his absence. The waves still hugged the sand like a loving daughter, and the salty sea air remained undisturbed and beautiful under the light of the fading sun. To his surprise, he wasn't the only one visiting. As he made his way down the steps to the sand, he spotted the outline of his grandfather standing at the edge of the water. The sight struck Tommen as odd, but it didn't deter him from walking onto the sand. At the sound of footsteps, Tywin cocked his head towards his grandson. "Enjoy your talk with Tyrion?"

"Everyone has spies, don't they?" Tommen said, avoiding Tywin's glare as he moved next to him. "But yes, I did. He's smart."

"He has low cunning." Tywin corrected. "Don't confuse it for something else."

"Do you not get along with him either?" Tommen asked. A faint scoff was all he got in response. Now that he was closer, Tommen could see that his grandfather wasn't just staring out into the sea. There was a basket on the ground beside him and a fishing line out in front. "I didn't know you fished."

"Why would you?" Tywin asked back. "Until recently, you've been content to wander around not knowing anything about anyone."

His grandfather's words stung. "I know," Tommen replied. "I'm sorry if I've let you down."

A sigh escaped Tywin's lips as he looked at his grandson. "And your training with Ser Balon?"

Tommen supposed it was time to act as if his grandfather just knew everything about everyone. "Slow," he admitted. "It seems that I don't have uncle Jamie's gifts for the sword but I'm trying to learn." The image of his grandfather coming into the throne room, in full armor spattered with blood came to his mind. "When did you learn how to fight, grandfather?"

"When I was younger than you were," Tywin answered. "And I did so because it was necessary for the family. I'm glad you've taken a similar stance on such things."

Tommen nodded just as the fishing line started to wobble. Tywin hawk-like eyes darted out to a specific point in the water as he clasped the line in between his fingers and began reeling it back in. Once the fish was in his hands, he smashed its head against a nearby rock and tossed it into the basket. "What of the question I set up for you? Have you figured out a way to bring the North back into the fold?"

"I've been discussing somethings with uncle Tyrion but..." Even without the gaze of his grandfather on him, he felt ashamed at his lack of a real answer. "What about trading Sansa for uncle Jamie?"

"Jamie is no longer their prisoner," Tywin said.

Tommen felt conflicted by the news. He was glad his uncle was now out of Stark hands but Sansa's return home just gained a new obstacle. "Do we know where he is?"

A low grumble from his grandfather was his answer. "I've been thinking, I could ask Sansa what to do," Tommen said.

"By all means, ask the Stark girl on how to return her to her family." Tywin's cold tone could freeze the ground they stood on

"Sansa's smart." Tommen defended. "She has to know we can't just let her go while her family is at war with us. Maybe she could help."

Tywin finally returned his gaze to the prince. "How?"

Tommen could feel himself shrink under his grandfather's eyes but he did his best to stand firm. "I...I could marry her."

Tywin raised an eyebrow at the statement that sounded an awful lot like a question. "You want to marry the Stark girl?"

Tommen fought the urge to shake his head. He didn't want to marry anyone right now, but he had given a possible answer to his grandfather. Now he had to stand by it. "It can bring the North back into the Seven Kingdoms. A Stark and a Baratheon together is a good match."

"A match that is of little use to us with the Robb Stark calling himself king." Tywin pointed out. "How do you intend to make him submit?"

"The Greyjoys," Tommen answered. Tywin beckoned him to elaborate. "Robb hates us for killing his father. But the Greyjoys have betrayed him and killed two of his brothers. He'll hate them at least as much as he does us. And they have Winterfell."

"What role does Winterfell play?" Tywin asked.

"How would you feel if someone took Casterly Rock?" Tommen asked. "It's your home and place of power. You'd do anything to get it back."

"Even ally with the family that killed your father?" Tywin asked.

Tommen looked out towards the ocean as the answer rolled over him. "We didn't kill his father. Joffrey did. We make that clear to him. As long as he swears to end the rebellion and pledge his loyalty to us, we'll help him destroy the Greyjoys and he can keep his position as Warden of the North."

"Rather quick to blame your brother for this situation."

"He brags about it," Tommen growled out, surprising Tywin with his anger. "I just don't know why he hates everyone. I'm just trying to help."

Tywin's eyes narrowed slightly at his grandson's hurt tone. "Did something happen between you and Joffrey?"

Tommen avoided his gaze. "Nothing worse than usual. What were we discussing?"

Tywin was quick to answer. "Sansa's role in your plan."

"She'll be married into the royal family," Tommen said. "Her place will be with us. And..." The thought made Tommen uneasy but it was a possibility. "We'll have something if Robb gets any further ideas."

Silence returned to the beach. Tommen took it as a sign that he had failed. "It's a terrible plan, isn't it?"

"It's messy in several places." Tywin acknowledged. "Still, I'm impressed you took the task seriously, even if you are still too idealistic."

"I just want things to turn out okay," Tommen defended. "Is it wrong to hope that we can fix things? Maybe make them better than they were before all of this?"

Tywin started to set up his fishing line again. "Your hopes must not blot out the reality of our situation. Peace with the Starks would be difficult to manage and I have little patience to negotiate with them as long Robb calls himself king." Tywin's eyes darted across the water again as he saw movement. "Still, you brought up the Greyjoy issue. Perhaps you can work with that if they wish to do something about it. Of course, if the Starks care more about being loved by their men than they do about their home, peace will be off the table entirely. What would we do about them then?"

Tommen went quiet at the thought. "I'm hoping that it doesn't come to that."

Tywin scoffed at the response. "Plan for when it does. Hope is for fools who don't prepare."

The two went quiet again and Tommen studied his grandfather's face. Decades of leadership and terrible choices had hardened it as it would any man but there was something more relaxed about it here. And it was too curious not to ask about.

"How did you learn to fish?"

Tywin blinked at the question. "My father taught me."

Tytos. Tommen had rarely heard the man's name spoken, but he knew the story about what had happened to the Lannisters under his rule as well as what Tywin would do to restore the damage done to it. He had never given it much thought before but Tywin must've been young too.

"Could you teach me?" Tommen asked.

Tywin raised his eyebrows at the question. "You want to learn?"

Tommen hesitated under his grandfather's gaze but nodded. "I want to learn all I can. To help the family."

Tywin froze for a moment before accepting the answer and beckoned Tommen closer. "Understand, fishing isn't an exciting task. It's a game of patience and observation."

"Like ruling?" Tommen asked.

Tywin nodded at his grandson before he continued.

* * *

**A/N: Well here you go. Some of you might take issue with the Tywin scene but I like to believe their was a hidden side from the man that the audience never saw. Makes him more just a bit more interesting in my eyes so I figured I'd try a scene of it. Maybe it worked, maybe it didn't. Let me know what you think. Also, sorry about the wait. Crazy times.**


	4. Chapter 4: Mothers and Marriage

It was an odd sight, Cersei looking worried. Years of living under the Lannister name as well as ruling at court had taught her to wear a passive mask, sometimes with a smile attached but never more than that. Only a few people ever saw emotion from her. Fewer still had ever seen more than rage or annoyance. The possibility of seeing her face twist with worry was always welcome as far as Tyrion was concerned. A sight he enjoyed greatly as Cersei looked down on her youngest son training with Ser Balon.

"Did you convince him to do this?"

"I had no hand in this, Father told me he decided on it himself," Tyrion said, pouring himself a cup of Arbor Red.

Cersei's grip on her glass tightened, causing Tyrion's grin to grow. "Father's never shown an interest in Tommen before."

"There hasn't been much for Father to notice," Tyrion replied. "Thanks to your tutelage, Joffrey turned into a cunt. Why wouldn't Tommen do the same?" Her eyes darted toward him. Her gaze had always been hawklike. Which might've been the only thing she inherited from Tywin as far as Tyrion was concerned. Maybe his rage as well, though hers was far less controlled.

"This is a waste of his time."

"Yes, because when has learning to fight done anybody good?" Tyrion remarked to his elder sister."

"He could hurt himself."

"He could do that the second he started crawling on the floor," Tyrion said. "This is a natural step for a prince. A welcome one, even."

"Welcome?" She repeated.

"Have you ever seen Joffrey train with anybody?" Tyrion asked.

"He's the king. There are more important matters which require his attention."

"Of course. I remember such a moment at the Battle of the Blackwater where the king heroically fought on the shore beside his men during the invasion...Oh wait, that was me."

The scoff from Cersei was satisfying to hear. "If you're done congratulating yourself..."

"Cersei," Tyrion interrupted. "By all accounts, Tommen is one of the two good things you ever did for the world. He's so good in fact, he looked at Joffrey and decided he was going to be better than him. Which is more than I can say for the rest of us."

Tommen's next strike proved clumsy and a well-placed block with Ser Balon's shield caused him to lose his footing.

"He doesn't have Jamie's skill," Cersei said.

"I blame that on you," Tyrion replied. "Then again, he does have your tenacity. When he was Tommen's age, Jamie didn't much patience for something he had no natural inclination for. Much to my misery, you rarely gave up."

At his words, Cersei watched her son practically leap back to his feet. Not with a frown or irritated glare, but with a smile that looked just as bright as the afternoon sun. In that instance, the picture of a scared boy she held in her arms cracked and someone new was standing in his place. A bright-eyed fourteen-year-old prince with a sword and shield in his hand learning to fight and protect his family.

The clashing of sparring swords commenced again as Cersei took a sip of wine and turned her eyes to the girl watching the fight. "It seems Sansa's taken an interest."

"As she should, marrying him might very well be the only way the Stark family survives. Much to your misery, I imagine." Tyrion said.

"I can handle Sansa," Cersei replied. "It's that Tyrell whore that has me worried. She knows how to manipulate Joffrey."

"It'd be hard to make him worse," Tyrion said, noting the venom in her voice at the mention of their newfound family ally. "I know you're probably plotting to go to war with them the same way you did the Starks, but don't. The Tyrells aren't going anywhere Cersei. They're a sight you'd better get used to."

"We'll see," Cersei replied. "And I don't take orders from you."

"But you will take them from me." Another voice practically growled out from the room's entrance. Both Tyrion and Cersei froze in place at the echoing footsteps of their father. "The Tyrell family is helping us win this war. They've shed blood with our soldiers saving your lives. We can't afford to be rid of them."

Not daring to argue with him, Cersei remained quiet as Tywin stood next to them. He glanced down at his grandson and Tyrion noticed Cersei wasn' the only one with a strange look on his face. It wasn't fearful like his daughter's, it was more calculating than anything. Like he had just found gemstone lying under the sun that no one else had noticed and was deciding on what to buy with it.

"I heard you spoke with the King."

Tywin shifted his gaze to his son."I am the King's Hand. I speak with him on many matters."

"Of course. Well, this particular matter ended with him practically stomping out of the throne room. What did you say to earn such a reaction?"

At the question, Tywin's eyes hardened as he looked at Cersei. "I made it clear that he was to leave Tommen unharmed from this point forward."

Fear returned to Cersei's face. "Unharmed?"

"It amazes me that for all your plotting and knowledge, you never noticed what a danger your son was to his brother." Tywin's eyes flared with rage and Cersei seemed to shrink under his gaze. "I was led to believe that you cared for your children, but it appears that care might've only been for Joffrey."

A part of Cersei seemed to shatter at his words, and while she was quiet, Tyrion asked the obvious question. "Was there an incident between them?"

"It's dealt with," Tywin answered, after taking a short calming breath. "And we have important matters to discuss."

"A Small Council meeting?" Tyrion asked.

"No, this a family matter." He beckoned the two of them to follow him.

* * *

By the time his training was over, Tommen was in rather good spirits. He was tired, bruised, and had been knocked on the ground enough not to feel too proud of himself but he was getting better. Where a week ago he was disarmed and lost his footing a dozen times, today it was closer to eight. Where there was once poor footing, there was now some semblance of balance and purpose.

"Do you think I'm getting better?" Tommen asked his teacher.

Ser Balon bowed his head as he took the prince's sparring sword. "Slowly but surely, your grace. One day at a time."

"What do you think Sansa?"

"I agree with Ser Balon." She smiled. "Father often told Robb that swordsmanship doesn't arrive overnight. Still, your shield arm looks a little weak. Jon always said it was the key to survival in a fight."

Ser Balon nodded his head in agreement hiding a smile under his helm at Sansa's words. Tommen didn't bother to hide a laugh as he and Sansa began to walk back into the keep. "You haven't mentioned Jon before."

"He was Father's bastard from the Rebellion," Sansa replied. "Mother never liked him and..." She frowned as the memories returned to her head. "...I don't think I was kind to him either. Not as much as I should've been."

"Is he fighting with the rest of the North?" Tommen asked.

Sansa shook her head. "He went further north to the Wall with uncle Benjen. I haven't seen him since the day he left."

"You write to him?"

Sansa raised an eyebrow at the question. "The North is in rebellion, your grace."

"I know," Tommen replied. "But I thought the Wall was neutral when it came to wars within the Seven Kingdoms. Sending a ship to Whiteharbour and having a rider take it from there shouldn't be too difficult."

Tommen could see Sansa flirting with the idea yet frowning all the same. "I'm not certain that's a good idea. What would I even say to him?"

"He's family, isn't he?" Tommen questioned back. "You can talk to family about whatever you want and they'll listen." It was his turn to frown now. "With some exceptions of course. Joffrey isn't exactly a good listener."

Sansa couldn't hold back a chuckle at the prince's words. "Don't let him hear you say that." She whispered, keeping her grin.

With a comfortable atmosphere between them and no bad news to give at the moment, Joffrey decided to bring back up the conversation they never got to finish. "Have you given any more thought on helping me try to end this war?"

Sansa's bright smile dimmed at the question. "I have."

"And?" Tommen asked.

She was silent for the next few steps before responding. "Tommen, your family..."

"...has done yours wrong. I know." Tommen finished for her. "Your father didn't deserve to die, and I wish things could've been different. But you need to understand that your family isn't entirely innocent in this mess."

Sansa slowed her walk."What do you mean?"

"Do you know what started the war between our families?" Tommen asked.

"When my father was killed."

"No, that was a side effect. It started when Lady Catelyn took Tyrion hostage to the Eyrie."

Quiet anger began to rise in Sansa's voice. "You're lying."

Tommen frowned at her words. "Sansa, you're my friend. Why would I lie to you?"

She opened her mouth to list off a litany of reasons. But one way or another they all were linked to either Joffrey or Cersei. When she tried to find one for Tommen, she came up empty-handed but no less agitated.

"I don't know, but my mother wouldn't do that without good reason."

"You've talked to my uncle." Tommen pointed out. "What reason would your mother have to take him hostage?"

Sansa contemplated the question but knew that it didn't add up. Tyrion had always been kind to Sansa ever since they met. The idea of her mother ordering his capture didn't sit right with the picture of the woman who raised her.

"I don't know either," Tommen replied in earnest. That question had been eating at him for some time now. Ever since he traced the conflict back to that event between their two families. As far as he knew, Tyrion was the one Lannister the Stark family didn't hate at first sight so why was he kidnapped? "And you and I can't know for sure until we make contact with Robb and your mother."

After a few more seconds, Sansa spoke again. "I'll consider it."

"That's fair." Tommen agreed, not expecting a definitive answer right away. "Do write to Jon though. I started doing the same with Myrcella, and it's nice."

At the mention of the princess, a hopeful look appeared in Sansa's eyes. "How is the Princess doing in Dorne?"

"She's doing well," Tommen said. "It's a bit warmer down in Dorne but she seems to like the Martells. Do you know anything about them?"

"Not much, I'm ashamed to say," Sansa admitted. Dorne hadn't been a real topic of discussion back at Winterfell. For one reason or another, her father and mother did not seem to enjoy talking about the southern kingdom.

"I can give you a book about them if you like." Tommen offered. "Maester Myrem's writing is a bit dull but you get a general feel for the country and its leading family."

* * *

Later that day, Tommen sat in his room alone going over everything he had learned so far on his new mission to find a way to bring peace to the North.

"Father often told Robb that swordsmanship doesn't arrive overnight."

Tommen thought of all the notes he had been reading about Robb and his Northern Army. Was he a skilled warrior as well as a tactician? From Sansa's statement, it seemed like he wasn't a natural like Jamie so maybe he could use that.

As the weeks had passed, he started to truly grasp the scale of the conflict and the spirit that the Northerners had. It was a good cause they were fighting for. Had all the makings of a story to tell their children. An evil king who murdered their lord, a son forced into battle to save his family, victories against the mighty Lannister army, all of them fueled the fire that was their cause independence. And without any obstacle appearing in their way, that fire would likely continue growing in the region, possibly even spreading.

Tommen knew his grandfather was aware of this. He'd seen warfare for several decades and didn't need his grandson reminding him of why the Northerners were fighting them. What he did need was a different solution for ending the war. He hadn't mentioned his plans for doing so, but Tommen suspected he was already working on a solution that would wipe the Stark family entirely. After all, he had done it before.

He'd given the Greyjoy idea a great deal of thought since his uncle mentioned them. They were the best option enemy wise. With his new rebellion, Balon had declared himself an enemy of the crown and he would need to be dealt with eventually, but his immediate harm had been to the North. With his family home taken and two of his brothers dead, Robb had just as much cause to hate them as much as he did the Lannisters. More so, when Theon's betrayal was taken into consideration.

Any lord worth his salt would not tolerate the loss of his ancestral home. If he was smart Robb would already be working on a way to reclaim it. But how could he do that without weakening his forces in the South? The independent North had only one formal alliance in Riverrun and with the Riverlands being the main battleground of the war, he doubted they were in any position to march North.

Robb would either need new allies or a halt in hostilities with the crown if he wanted to free his home. Things between the Lannisters and Starks were far to tense to be allies at the moment, but wars had been halted before. He saw no reason why this one couldn't be.

All of this was purely theoretical though. Without a way to contact Robb, he might as well be playing diplomacy with Ser Pounce. Such a suggestion would have to come from him. If it came from Cersei, he wouldn't believe it. If it had Joffrey's name on it, he'd tear it to pieces and throw it in a fire. Tywin's name likely had some respect in the North, but his history wasn't one of honesty so he was out as well. By all accounts, his uncle Tyrion was the least hated by the Starks but news that Catelyn had captured him at the beginning of the war, told him that things might've changed between them. As far as he knew, he was the only Lannister they didn't actively hate. He hoped they would at least consider a proposal from him.

Then there was the "how" of giving the proposal. Tommen couldn't very well go North himself. If he wasn't killed on the way there, he would more than likely be taken hostage and further sour the relations between their families. He supposed he could have an armed escort but without Tywin himself going with him, he doubted that it would make a great deal of difference. At worse things would devolve into another battle if not slaughter.

That's where Sansa's revelation came in. "Jon went to the Wall with uncle Benjen."

That was an especially welcomed piece of news. Two Starks were still alive and away from the battlefield. If worse came to worse and Robb had to die, he could ask his grandfather to free them of their vows and have them rule Winterfell. That way Sansa could at least have some family left. Of course, there was the possibility that they would refuse but why would they? Family is all you have, no one should turn their back on it.

But he was thinking about it in the worst-case scenario. In the most ideal scenario, Sansa writes to Jon and establishes a correspondence. By that time, they're sending letters regularly, hopefully, he could build up enough trust with her to inform her of his plan in great detail. She could then inform Jon, who could then, hopefully, inform Robb. The word hopefully was used a lot in his way of thinking and he imagined his grandfather would be annoyed with it if he spoke it aloud but it was the best he could come up with at the moment.

Tommen let out a sigh and fell back onto his bed. He thought about how much easier his strategizing would be if he was king. How simpler things would be if Robb could read a piece of parchment with the King's seal and not react with what he imagined was an angry growl. it was nice to think about, but he could hear his grandfather saying it was unproductive. Joffrey was the king and he was going to remain king for the foreseeable future. He would need to learn to work around that fact if he wanted to help. Thankfully, Margaery had been doing much to keep him preoccupied with the wedding so it was easier than it might've been before she arrived in King's Landing.

Tommen clenched his fist as his lack of progress on that front. A considerable amount of time had passed since they met but he had still not taken the time to learn about her or her family in great detail. He knew their history better than before, thanks to many nights of reading, but he needed to talk to her and her family personally in order get a grasp of who they were and how they thought.

A knock on his door interrupted his contemplations. He barely opened his mouth to speak when the door opened and he saw the Queen regent.

"Mother." He sat up on the edge of his bed to look at her. Cersei smiled as she closed the door behind her.

"My sweet boy." She said, embracing him. Tommen returned it but something about her grip seemed different. Like it was stronger than usual. "I'm so sorry I haven't made time for you."

Tommen shook his head as she released him and he sat back down. "I don't mind. You've been busy."

"So have you." She said, keeping the smile. "Training to be a swordsman, are we?"

Tommen's smile faltered at the question. "I decided I want to learn how to fight on my own. There might be a time when I don't have guards to rely on."

"You seem to think I'd be against the idea," Cersei replied, sitting down on the bed beside him. "It's good that you decided to learn how to fight. I only wish you could wait until you were older." She took his hand and sighed. She looked him over as if trying to find the boy she held in her arms in the throneroom as Stannis invaded. "You seem different now."

"I'm still me," Tommen laughed. "I just want to do more now. I don't want to be scared again."

Cersei frowned. "I'm sorry you were scared that night. You won't have to be ever again."

"Neither will you," Tommen said. "I won't let anyone harm my family." For a brief instant, Tommen's eyes looked like Jamie's. A trick of the sunlight through the window that faded just as quickly as it appeared, but its effect on Cersei couldn't be understated. She gripped his hand harder and smiled.

"Mother, were you happy with Robert?" He asked.

The mention of his name made her want to scoff. "What brought this on?"

"I'm getting older," Tommen said. "I'll have to start thinking about my marriage soon and I wanted to know what goes into a good one."

"You're asking the wrong person," Cersei said. "Robert and I, we weren't happy together."

"You had us," Tommen said. "I didn't know him well but he must've cared about us just as you did."

Cersei shook her head. "All Robert cared about was the wine in his cup and the closest whore he could get his hands on."

"Oh," Tommen felt dejected at his mother's description of his father. In truth, hardly anyone ever spoke well of him. Despite the era of peace his reign provided, everyone seemed to agree he was a poor king and a poorer husband. "What could he have done to be better?"

Cersei wanted to laugh at the question. Die sooner than he had, she wanted to say. But there was an earnest look in her son's eye that made her take the question seriously. "Being there would've helped. A husband should always be there when his wife needs him. At the birth of his children, especially."

"What else?"

"Talking with them," Cersei added. "Ideally, a marriage would be a partnership between a man and his wife."

"Do you know anyone who had a happy marriage?"

A cruel smirk worked its way to Cersei's face. "Ned Stark and his wife seemed happy."

"Anyone, we're not currently at war with?" Tommen asked.

Cersei gave it some more thought and gave the only real answer she could think of. "I think your grandfather was happy."

"Grandfather?!" Tommen asked louder than he meant to.

Cersei nodded. "When I was younger, he was...Well, he was always a hard man but Joana seemed to be the one person who didn't fear him."

Joana. His grandmother's name sounded nice. "I wish I could've met her," Tommen said.

Cersei felt an old twinge of pain at the memories of her mother. The yells to be careful down by the Lannisport sea, the lessons on womanhood, the songs she would sing as she fell asleep. "I do too. She would've loved you and Myrcella."

He noticed she left Joffrey out of that statement. That was sad but unsurprising. Perhaps there wasn't anyone, past or present who liked Joffrey.

"Why all this talk of marriage?" Cersei finally asked. "And I want real answer this time."

He had been expecting this conversation. He couldn't keep it a secret forever, especially from Cersei. "I'm considering marrying Sansa," Tommen said. "To try and help bring peace back to the kingdoms."

"Is that right?" Cersei asked. "Not too long ago, she was engaged to Joffrey. You don't think she'll see you as...less than him?"

Tommen shook his head. "I think she's glad to be away from him. And so am I for that matter. We didn't do a good job of protecting her."

Cersei raised her eyebrows at the statement. "She's a Stark. Her family are traitors to the crown."

"Her family cares about her," Tommen said. "If Myrcella was married off to someone like Joffrey, wouldn't you go to war to rescue her?"

Her silence was his answer. "Sansa didn't want this to happen." Tommen continued. "I don't see why she has to suffer for events beyond her control. And if I can help her, I think I should."

"You have a kind heart, Tommen," Cersei said. "But marriage is something that you have little knowledge of."

"That's why I'm asking you how to make it a good one," Tommen said, shifting his feet. "I'll be going over it with grandfather soon and I'd like your help to make sure I don't make a fool of myself."

"Tommen, you could never be a fool." She said.

"I'm half Robert." He said. "I think I'm closer to it than you'd like."

Cersei didn't share his chuckle but she did keep her smile. She always tried to keep her smile in front of her children.

* * *

Margaery felt like she hadn't slept in days as she sat in the garden. The wedding arrangements had taken up so much of her time as well as the introductions to the many lords and ladies who would be attending. She knew this would a tiring situation when she arrived in King's Landing and made no qualms about it left her in.

The real problem was Joffrey. When she first laid eyes on him in the aftermath of the battle, she thought she had understood him. A boisterous boy with far too much power and time on his hands. She was right in that regard but he also had an unexpected cruelness to him. A strange need to cause pain and suffering to those who appear weak or foolish. It had been difficult to adjust to the wants of such a man but progress was being made. Just today, she had walked with him through the city to help his relationship with the people and he looked strangely vulnerable under their eyes. Scared, certainly. But also curious of their affection.

It seemed new to him. She seemed new to him. She would have to be careful not to lose that curiosity he had for her. Sansa had told her about their unfortunate relationship before she arrived and while a sad story, it held valuable lessons. What to do, what not to do. She had been a wealth of knowledge for the Tyrells and if she had her way, she would continue to see her be useful to them. She'd suffered enough at the hands of the Lannisters, now if she could only build up some confidence in her self. She was the heir to North and would be a fine woman for any lord who asked her.

Margaery paused her sewing as the thought came to her. This was a great opportunity for her family. Sansa was a key to the North now, and if a Tyrell man were to propose to her... She needed to speak to her grandmother about this just to be sure.

"Lady Margaery?"

The voice halted her thoughts."Prince Tommen?" She asked, quickly standing up and curtseying. The young prince smiled and waved his hands. "Oh don't bother with that, soon enough, I'll be bowing to you. I'm sorry if I caught you by surprise."

"Oh, don't mind me," Margaery said. "I was just working on my embroideries."

"Is that so?" Tommen moved to her side. "Any particular designs?"

She smiled and showed him combined sigil between the stag of House Baratheon and the rose of House Tyrell. Tommen's wide eyes brought a laugh from Margaery.

"That's very good," Tommen said.

"Thank you, my prince. If you don't mind me asking, why are you out and about at this late hour?"

"I've grown used to walking the Red Keep at dusk," Tommen said, looking out over the Blackwater. "It helps me think."

"More exciting than sitting around in your room, I imagine." Margaery smiled.

Tommen tilted his head. "Good company always helps."

* * *

**A/N: Well, there you go. Little bit of a time jump and you now know Tommen's age. I know it's a bit of a jump from the show but I feel better about it. Writing the future chapters and keeping him 8 or 9 would just be kind of weird. Too weird for me anyway. With that said, hope you guys enjoyed and I'll see you next time. Take care. **


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